


Clusterf*ck

by ADeedWithoutaName



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ABO, AU, Feeding, M/M, Mpreg, OOC, Stuffing, Weight Gain, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADeedWithoutaName/pseuds/ADeedWithoutaName
Summary: When an omega gets pregnant, the potential fathers feed them. All the potential fathers. In Sam's case, all fifty.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 140





	Clusterf*ck

**Author's Note:**

> This one is pretty much all indulgence on my part. No planning, very little editing, no second set of eyes looking it over...just pure horny button-mashing, which probably comes through.

It was real unfortunate, Sam going into heat at the food festival.

Dean had sort of known it was coming. He didn't look right, or smell right. Not exactly like _heat_ though, per se, and Dean had spent his whole life around the kid, he ought to have known. He'd figured he was coming down with some kind of flu, so a fairground packed with booths and trucks from every restaurant and amateur chef in the whole county didn't seem like a good place for him.

"Just stay home and take a cold shower or something," Dean said. "I'll take Cas instead. His cousin's gonna be there, anyway."

But Sam was nineteen and unmated, and living proof of the common knowledge that any omega that got that old without a mark on their neck turned into a fierce little bitch, if they hadn't been one already. So he didn't even say anything. Just strapped on his collar and glared, two points of color high on his cheeks.

"Fine," Dean said. "But if you infect the entire goddamn town with whatever crud you're coming down with, that's on you."

So they got to the festival, and they made it to exactly three booths. Sliders, tacos, and some kind of fancy-ass ramen noodles. Sam was weirdly hungry, rolled his eyes when Dean reminded him to pace himself because there were over a hundred vendors at this thing. Then on the way to their fourth, he doubled over with a needy little whine, and his scent shifted so suddenly Dean practically heard a _click._

It was real unfortunate that most restaurant owners and hobbyists tended to be alphas, too.

Sam was weaving by the time Dean finally managed to get him back to the car, drunk on endorphins and afterglow. His pupils were blown, mouth open in a lazy pant and tongue lolling out, face flushed. And oh, yeah, he was stuffed so full of alpha come he looked like he was full-term with at least one pup.

It had taken the entire security team, all betas, to extricate Sam from every alpha but Dean, who was able to prove he was his guardian, and hose him down with scent neutralizers. Not that he needed them much, at that point. His body was already winding down the chemical call of heat, pretty satisfied by all the knot he'd gotten.

Dean strapped Sam into the passenger seat after lifting him in. He was wrapped in a blanket provided by an embarrassed event organizer, since of course his clothes hadn't survived the first two or three alphas. If or when they found his phone and wallet and collar, Dean would get a call.

He wasn't worried about come getting on the leather of the car's interior. Omegas in heat didn't leak.

"Swear to god, Sammy," Dean muttered huskily, climbing in behind the wheel, "you better not've fucking known you were gonna drop today."

Sam practically flopped over, head on Dean's shoulder as he cuddled up against him. Dean heard him slosh. He smelled sweet and satisfied as he began to purr, a low rumble deep in his chest.

"Maybe," he slurred out.

Dean shook his head. "You little slut."

He didn't mind all that much, though. Sam had been sticking close to him. He'd been the first one on him.

Dean cleaned Sam up when they got home. Bruises, grass stains, come, saliva, bites...thankfully, nobody had gotten his neck, so Dean didn't have to track down some random alpha through their dental records and hand his baby brother over. It had been a close call though, so he went ahead and took care of it himself.

Sam whined and squirmed in his arms, still naked and swollen.

"Oh, pipe down," Dean muttered, lapping at the bite mark. Clotting agents in the spit and all that. "You knew it was gonna happen eventually. Didn't want Dad to do it, didn't wanna mate with anybody else, moved in with me...we talked about this."

Dean helped Sam make a nest that night, climbed in with him, stroked his long, shaggy hair and thought about what they were going to have to do. He'd need to make some appointments. There were vitamins and shit Sam was supposed to be taking. Probably pick up some overtime at the shop, as much as they'd be willing to give him, with a pup on the way and all...well, at least one.

It was the next morning that the first alpha showed up on their doorstep, carrying a big box of homemade doughnuts with halos of grease already showing through on the bottom.

Dean knew how things worked, obviously. He'd been through sex ed. You knocked an omega up, you fed them, whether you were mated to them or not. It wasn't just tradition, it was instinct. You wanted them provided for, round and wide by the time the pup came along, because that meant a better chance at a successful birth and maybe higher fertility on the next round.

Usually, it was just one alpha coming around with food, which was more than enough to plump the pregnant omega up. Tended to be taking them out to dinner, bringing snacks and takeout. Max, it was two or three.

In Sam's case, it was several dozen, every single one of them with a passion and talent for cooking or baking or both.

Dean had heard about this kind of situation before. It wasn't common, but not so unheard of there wasn't a word for it. A clever one. When there was an omega who'd somehow managed to get more than five alphas rutting on them during a heat, they called it a clusterfuck.

Annoyed as he was with the situation, Dean could appreciate good wordplay. And c'mon. That was gold no matter who you were.

He took the box of doughnuts, slammed the door in the hopeful alpha's face, and headed back into the bedroom, where Sam's head was lifting from the pillows of the nest. He blinked sleepily at Dean, bedhead standing out around him in a fluffy chestnut halo.

"Got breakfast?" he asked, rubbing at his face.

"Yeah, your fan club dropped it off." Dean set the box down in front of Sam. "And there's more where that came from."

Leave it to Sam to get knocked up by all the best cooks in town. For a second, Dean was almost jealous. Almost.

"I know they ain't really gonna bother you, not since I mated you." Dean put a hand on Sam's head, ran it down his back. When he got to his ass, Sam automatically lifted his hips like a cat. "But they're definitely gonna be dropping off food and wanting to put their hands all over you, and I don't wanna come home to you smelling like them, okay?"

Sam agreed. And, to be fair, he didn't come home to Sam smelling like a bunch of other alphas when he got off work. Just to him surrounded by a mountain of their cooking in the living room, even fuller than he'd been yesterday...from the other end this time. It was weird to see, that taut, bloated belly spilling out of his T-shirt (an old one of Dean's) and sweatpants.

He was still eating when Dean walked in. Had a piece of pizza in one hand and a brownie in the other, taking alternating bites. Dean decided to excuse it by telling himself Sam was pregnant, even if it hadn't been a full twenty-four hours yet.

Mouth full, Sam gave him a little nod. Dean just stood there for a minute, hands in his pockets, taking it in as his cock slowly filled.

"Saw there were a bunch of boxes and stuff out on the porch," he said finally.

"Uh huh." Sam belched. "Stopped answering the door. Had a hard time getting up."

"Wonder why." Dean headed for the couch, stepped over the empty dishes and wrappers that Sam must have first tried to pile neatly, then eventually given up on. He bent down to nuzzle Sam's hair, scent his neck where the bond mark was slowly healing, and Sam tipped his head so that he could do it...but didn't stop eating. Dean chuckled. "God. Greedy little bitch, aren't you?" He put a hand on Sam's middle, felt him strain up towards the touch, but. Yeah. He was really weighed down with all the heavy, rich crap he'd been fed today. Felt like he was about to pop. Dean knew he wouldn't, but felt like it. "Somebody's spoiling you."

A lot of people, actually. Dean asked, "So how many of 'em showed up today?"

"Half, maybe?" Sam replied through a full mouth. He was purring, taking turns with the food and with rubbing himself all over Dean as best he could. He smelled horny. "I don't know."

"Of the ones who fucked you yesterday?"

"Uh huh." Sam burped, then put his mouth right up next to Dean's ear, breathing, "Bring in all the other stuff."

"You want me to feed you? Acting a whole lot more like you want me to fuck you."

"I want _both._ "

So Dean brought in the coolers and cute little packages and saran-wrapped plates that had accumulated outside on their front porch, and then he flipped Sam over and fucked him right there on the couch while Sam panted and whined into a red velvet cake.

A few dozen alphas. All of them bringing food at least a few times a week, most every day. Every single one with a knack for making the kind of stuff they were feeding Sam.

Sam was big, for an omega. Real tall. Taller than Dean by a couple inches and with the potential to tack on a couple more in his early twenties, which Dean pretended not to care about. But he was also thin, legs a mile long and a waist so narrow you could practically close a fist around it.

That didn't last.

Unless he was showering, Sam was in his nest, in the middle of one of the most impressive spreads Dean had ever seen. One that was being endlessly replenished. His stomach didn't deflate after that first day, just got bigger and bigger, pinning him in place practically all the time. He ate constantly. He purred constantly, dreamy and dopy and affectionate with pregnancy and calorie overload.

And he got _fat._

Literally doing nothing all day but sitting back on his (expanding) ass and letting an infinite supply of food pour down his throat? Dean even caught him sleep-eating more nights than not, rolling his eyes whenever Sam asked why he was already so full he couldn't move in the morning. It was no wonder he packed on the pounds, inflating like somebody had him hooked up to an air hose.

And it happened fast. He went from looking like an average omega (actual hips, chubby little belly, soft chest) to some kind of model (love handles that flowed out of your hand, ass that could fill up an armchair) to...god, Dean didn't even know what. Some kind of spoiled, overfed little prince with marshmallow arms and legs and a round cherub face and a gut that not only touched the ground when he was on all fours, but spread out over it. Or it would've, at least. If he hadn't been full and firm every waking moment, and most of his sleeping ones. So it just bowed out on either side of him.

They should've known better, Dean thought to himself about all those alphas who came to the house bearing gifts. (Most of them only while he was at work. Just because he had to let them feed Sam because it might be their pup in there didn't mean he was gonna make their visit a pleasant one.) Giving an omega so much food. Especially a pregnant one. _Especially_ Sam, who didn't have nearly as much self control as he thought he did.

Of course Dean didn't even think about eating any of it himself. It was Sam's food. From a whole bunch of stupid, doting alphas who acted like nobody else in the whole world was feeding him. They had him so fat before the end of the first trimester the doctor couldn't even get a good ultrasound.

If his hormone levels were anything to go by though, they didn't have to worry about the puppy. He was horny pretty much constantly, to the point that every single night, Dean found himself fucking one of the fattest, most docile omegas he'd ever seen.

"Yeah, attaboy, Sammy," Dean panted, knotted in Sam, who was on his lap. Working his way through the burgers and fries Dean had made that night, because Dean wasn't any more immune to his instincts than anybody else in this situation. He nuzzled into Sam's long hair, full of the scent of sex and happy omega, and closed his eyes as he patted his baby brother's plush side. He fondled the love handle that spilled over onto his thigh, merged seamlessly into his belly. A religious lotion routine had kept Sam's tan, mole-spotted skin soft and free of stretch marks. "That's my little piglet."

The closer they got to Sam's due date, which Dean had only grudgingly allowed to become common knowledge, the more food the other alphas brought, and the bolder it seemed like they became. It felt like Dean couldn't go five minutes at home without a member of what he'd started thinking of as Sam's harem knocking on the door, sheepish and eager at the same time.

"I swear to god, if it's yours," Dean said when he opened the door on an appropriately-reticent Gabriel, "first thing I'm doing is shooting your fucking dad in the face. And maybe your aunt, too."

It'd be bad enough co-alpha-ing (or whatever it was called). Last thing he needed was to deal with the Shurley family monarchy.

"Trust me, Dean-o. Dad's the least of your worries. You better just pray it wasn't Lucifer."

Gabriel jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, where his older brother was unloading the literal truck of baked goods they'd brought over. Lucifer smirked and gave a jaunty little wave. Dean bared his teeth.

"If it's him, I'll shoot your dad, and I'll rip _his_ throat out, and we can just pretend it was you."

"Might be hard to explain if it's blonde, but okay." Gabriel leaned around Dean and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Now. Where's that sweet little butterball of yours? He needs pumped full of sugar."

Dean rolled his eyes, but let him in. Lucifer, he stopped at the door.

By the time Sam went into labor, a home birth was pretty much the only option, since it wasn't like he was gonna fit through the front door. It was more like a party than anything, since Dean had been obligated to inform the other potential fathers...sires, technically, since there were a lot of girls in there. Sam, not-so-little pedant that he was, had corrected Dean on that enough times.

The other alphas cooked. They fed Sam. They rubbed his belly and told him what a good boy he was. They all waited eagerly as Castiel, who'd volunteered his services as a doula (whatever the fuck that meant, he'd explained it at least a dozen times and Dean still didn't get it), and the midwife coaxed Sam through labor. Dean alternated between stalking around the house, seething at all the intruders on his territory, and being there for his mate like he knew he needed to be.

The kid - only one of them, despite Sam's massive size - came out with honey-dark hair and freckles from head to toe. When he opened his eyes, they were green, even though Dean had heard all babies were born with blue ones. And according to Sam, he smelled like Dean.

There was a lot of disappointment after that, pretty much everybody besides a few people they'd had ties to before all this drifting away. Dean went ahead and agreed to the DNA test, but he didn't think it was necessary. Part of him couldn't help feeling smug, like he'd won something...but looking at Sam, snuggled up against him in their nest as Castiel and Gabriel banged around in the kitchen, he knew he would've won even if the puppy had come out looking like every single alpha who'd banged his little brother but him.

"Heard your heat'll start coming again a few months from now," he murmured.

"Mm-hm." Sam was pretty preoccupied with nursing Pup. They hadn't talked about names. Shit, they probably should've talked about names.

"There's a Thanksgiving contest in a town a few miles north of here," Dean went on. "Hundreds of people. Cooks."

Sam looked at Dean, arched an eyebrow. He seemed remarkably clear-headed now that he was no longer pregnant...or as full as he had been.

"What're you getting at?"

Dean shrugged.

"Just saying. Can't feed you on my own, can I?" He smirked a little. "'Specially not if I want you getting bigger."


End file.
